


Indie Filmmaking and Urban Planning

by jabedalien



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Canon Autistic Character, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Marijuana, New York City, Prequel, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:16:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29726814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jabedalien/pseuds/jabedalien
Summary: Two years before enrolling at Greendale Community College, Britta Perry did in fact move to New York, where she met film school dropout Abed Nadir.
Relationships: Abed Nadir/Britta Perry
Comments: 20
Kudos: 32





	Indie Filmmaking and Urban Planning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Daddypudi (Ivyaugust)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivyaugust/gifts).



> I was consumed by a need to write this (relatively nonexistent) pairing in this specific context, so if you're giving this fic a try I really appreciate it!

The day Britta Perry bought a one-way plane ticket to New York, she was tired. Tired of Colorado, of her shitty waitressing job, of her parents who managed to be hiding behind every corner with their uncanny talent for finding her in grocery store parking lots and asking why she hasn’t returned their calls like they couldn’t _possibly_ know why she’d do this to them. She sold her car and got what it was worth, which wasn’t much, but she’d gotten by with less. At the end of her shift she told her shithead manager that she wasn’t coming back, let the look of shock mixed with his usual anger be her last memory of the place before she packed up what little she had and got on the plane.

She’s not dumb enough to think her life is anything like Sex in the City, or The Devil Wears Prada, or any other movie that makes New York City some flawless, life-saving place. But there had to be some reason for the hype, right? For the fact that it’s a place people run away to. And if there wasn’t, well then at least she’d know.

Frankly, she’s not entirely sure what she was expecting here, or where to place the pounding in her chest at the sight of the buildings around her. The lights on in every window and the people knocking against her side feel more lonely than anything, a reminder that there are eight million people living here and she doesn’t know a single one.

Britta walks into a small bar that’s more than a little grimy, because that’s something she’s got experience with and it seems like the kind of thing that wouldn’t change too much from place to place. When she walks in it seems like she’s right, that the too-loud music and the too-close people aren’t any different here, and it’s sort of comforting.

…

“You guys look busy tonight.” Britta says, leaning over the bar. 

“We’re always busy.” The bartender replies, passing Britta her martini. “And perpetually understaffed.”

“Are you looking to hire?” Britta asks. “I’ve got experience, and I just moved here, so my schedule’s always open.”

“Really? From where?”

“Doesn't matter, I’m here now.” Britta says, placing her hand over the bartender’s on the tabletop and cracking a smile.

She looks up at Britta and grins. “Well I definitely can talk to my manager. And put in a good word for you.”

“You’re the best.” Britta replies, writing her number onto a bar napkin. “Give me a call and let me know, yeah?”

The bartender takes it and puts it in her pocket. “I will.”

“One more thing. Can you hold this behind the bar for me?” Britta asks, holding up the duffle bag that feels like it’s about to break her arm.

“Dang, you weren’t kidding about just getting here.” She laughs, taking it from her and putting it by her feet.

Britta turns away from the bar, feeling like at least one thing seems to have gone well so far, then spots a tall guy in the corner of the bar whose pointing a camcorder in her direction, most of his face hidden behind it.

Britta stomps over and pushes the camera away to meet his eyes. “Were you just _filming me_? That’s more than a little creepy.”

“I’m making a documentary, I would’ve been chasing after you with a release form later if you didn’t come up to me.” He explains, pulling a folder out of his messenger bag. “But you flirting your way into a job here was some of the best footage I’ve gotten in a while.”

“What’s this documentary about, exactly?” Britta asks.

“I’m still finding that out. But it definitely needs you. So can you sign this?” 

Britta isn’t sure if she should be flattered or terrified. “Why me?” 

He shrugs. “Why anyone? There’s just something about you. You’ve got it.”

“What’s _it_?”

“Well if I knew the answer to _that_ I’d be a billionaire, not a dropout filming people in dive bars. You’re just magnetic. I saw you the second you walked in here.”

Britta had been called a lot of things by a lot of people in a lot of bars, but _magnetic_ was never one of them. 

“So can you sign this release form? Because I really can’t stand to blur out your face.” He asks again, holding the folder out to Britta. “My name’s Abed, by the way.”

“You know what, Abed? Sure.” Britta opens the folder and glances over the form before signing the bottom.

“Thanks— Britta Perry.” He says, reading the paper before looking up at her. “Can I buy you a drink? Also, has anyone ever told you that you look like Elizabeth Shue?”

“I don’t think so. And I’ve got a drink, but I’m happy to buy yours.”

Abed smiles, the first time she’s seen him do it with all his teeth. “Alright, that sounds good.”

…

“She’s got a part in one of your movies?” The bartender asks Abed when she hands him his beer.

He tilts his head towards Britta. “I’m starting to think it’s her movie now, Michelle.”

“He’s a pretty reliable reference.” Michelle says to Britta before her name’s called from the other side of the bar. 

“You here visiting someone or something like that?” Abed asks, taking a sip of his beer.

“I don’t actually know anyone here.” Britta admits. “Just needed a change.”

“Good a reason as any, I guess. Is there anything you wanted to see here?”

“I’m not that interested in all the landmarks and stuff, I don’t think. Unless those are really great and I’d totally be missing out.”

“They aren’t.” Abed laughs. “Ninety percent of the city is underwhelming as fuck.”

“What about the other ten percent?”

Abed raises an eyebrow like she’s caught him off guard. “It makes up for the rest.”

“Huh. Are you from here?” Britta asks.

“Nope, but I’ve been here for a few years, and my apartment’s a couple blocks away.” Abed replies.

“Do you like it?”

“I’m from a pretty small town, so it was weird at first. But I really do like living in the city.”

“What’s the weirdest thing about it?”

“That everyone just calls it _The City_. Like it’s the only one. It's really dumb but they all do it.”

“The best thing?”

“Pizza.” Abed answers immediately. “And people-watching.”

“Pizza sounds amazing right now.” Britta says, realizing she hasn’t eaten since she was in Colorado.

“Britta, where are you staying tonight? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I… was sort of still in the process of figuring that out.”

“Well if you want to get pizza and crash at my place you’re welcome to.” Abed tells her, looking down at her hands.

“Didn’t think you were the type to be that forward, director.” Britta teases.

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be like that. I did see you with Michelle, so honestly I thought there was a pretty fair chance you were a lesbian.”

Britta’s sort of surprised that this whole interaction hadn’t just been him flirting with her, but his face is perfectly genuine. “Well I’m bisexual, so you’ve still got a shot.”

“Cool cool cool.” Abed breathes. “I am too, actually.”

The smirk on his face is cunning without seeming malicious, and she leans in closer, finds herself falling into his wide, dark eyes, shining even in the dim light, but he doesn’t quite meet her gaze. His face is all sharp angles, cheekbones she’s pretty sure most models here would kill for, offset by those gentle eyes, and Britta realizes with a skipping heartbeat that she’s never found anyone to be quite this beautiful.

“Can I kiss you?” Britta suddenly asks, and now she’s surprising herself with her own forwardness.

Abed responds by wrapping a hand around the back of her neck and leaning down to meet her lips with his. They taste less like beer and more like vanilla chapstick, but they’re soft, moving slowly, carefully against hers until they both pull away breathless.

“Wanna get out of here?” Britta asks, unable to take her eyes of Abed’s lips.

He nods and takes her hand. They leave the bar, and he offers to carry her bag, which she refuses, then he offers to buy her pizza, which she accepts, figuring she already bought him a beer and the pizza’s only 99 cents anyway. He tells her about some of the places they pass on their walk, then points out a few of the skyscrapers peeking up in the distance. They stop to film a few things on the walk, mostly birds, which Abed seems to have a liking for, along with the backs of figures in a barbershop’s window, fully lit despite it being nearly 2 in the morning, sitting in the haircutting chairs and pouring each other drinks.

It’s three flights of narrow stairs up to Abed’s apartment, and he turns a key in the doorknob, opening it to a small living room and a kitchen off to the side.

“Are your roommates gonna care that I'm here?” Britta asks, looking pointedly at the two closed bedroom doors.

“I don’t really hang out with them. Or talk to them. Or even see them at all, honestly.” Abed replies. “Or anyone else for that matter.”

“It kinda seemed like people knew you back at the bar.”

“Some of them know me, but most of us don’t do a lot of talking. If you know what I mean.”

“ _Oh_.” Britta says in quiet realization. “Well you’ve talked to me a lot tonight.” 

“Guess I have.” Abed says, then pulls a zippo from his pocket and flicks it open. “Wanna smoke?”

“Cigarettes or weed?” 

“Your pick.” Abed shrugs, sliding open the door out onto the fire escape. "I picked up my fair share of vices here."

He reaches into his messenger bag, which has apparently got everything in the world inside, and passes a blunt to her, then pulls a cigarette out of a silver case, which she didn’t think was something people even kept cigarettes in these days, and puts it to his lips. They don’t say anything for a few minutes, looking out at the lights around them and figures moving in windows and along the sidewalks while Britta plays with the vines of the potted plant next to her. After a few hits she hands the blunt back to him, and he gives her the cigarette in exchange.

Just before she’s about to say something, he turns away from the view and looks to her. “So you really came out here without any plan at all?”

“ _None_.” Britta laughs, blowing cigarette smoke from her lips. “Wait, I’m not high enough for this, switch with me.” She says, passing the cigarette to Abed and taking the blunt from his fingers. “I had nowhere to go, but I figured worst case I could probably afford a hotel room for a night or two until I found somewhere to stay.”

“That’s pretty badass.” Abed says. “I could never pack up and go like that.”

“Well what brought you here?”

“I came here to go to NYU for film, but I dropped out this semester. I’m here for a few more months, then the lease ends and I’m back to helping my dad at his falafel restaurant. Two years of work to afford coming here, then almost three years of school, and I’m still going right back home.” The edge of his shoe taps against the railing, and she notices his laces are untied and tucked into the sneakers.

“Why’d you drop out? No judgement. Not like I’d have any right considering I dropped out of high school.”

“It just wasn’t for me. I still want to make movies, but I don’t think this is the way to do it, and I’m starting to think there isn’t any way for me at all.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. What about the documentary you’re making now?”

“Some people watch my stuff online, but this one’s more for me than anything else. To remember my time here.”

“Are you gonna miss it?”

“Yeah, I really will. Why’d you drop out of high school?”

“This isn’t my first time running away without much destination.” Britta shrugs. “Some might consider me a professional.”

“Well maybe you _are_ running somewhere, with some stops to make along that route.” Abed says. “At least that’s what I tell myself.”

Britta taps the blunt on the railing in front of her, watching the ashes fall. “Never thought about it like that. I bet it’d make for a good movie, too.”

“Maybe if someone else wrote it.”

“Why not you?”

“Nothing I write has any _substance_.” Abed sighs, and she can tell he’s got some kind of feelings about the word by the way he spits it out behind a cloud of smoke. “When I try to write, it all just rings hollow. That’s why I like making documentaries, I think. Because people already have their own stories, and I’m just the one watching them long enough to piece something together.”

“You’ve got an interesting way of looking at things, Abed. I like it.”

“You’re just about the only one.” Abed smiles. “People don’t really want to watch an alien’s study of human character.”

“ _Are_ you an alien?” Britta asks.

“Would you believe me if I told you I was?” Abed asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No.” Britta replies immediately, though she’s just high enough to be considering it as a possibility. “I mean, unless you are or something and now I'm offending you.”

Abed laughs gently, wrapping his long fingers around her forearm. “You’re fine, I’m human as far as anyone can tell. Just not great at it.”

“Well I’m not great at it either.” Britta says. His touch is light on her arm, unsure, and she finds herself afraid that he’s going to let go, so she slides herself a few inches closer to him along the grating. “I’m 26 and I haven’t gotten _anywhere_ in life. I don’t have a high school diploma but I _do_ have an arson charge, I’m in debt, I don’t really have anyone I consider _family_ , or even particularly close friends anymore.”

He drums his fingers against her arm, biting his lip in thought. “Can I give you a hug?”

Britta nods and he wraps his arms around her, it’s a bit awkward and his back is stiff, but there’s something in her that knows he’s really, really, trying to comfort her, and she truly can’t remember the last time someone offered her a hug.

“Thanks.” Britta says when they pull apart, wiping her eyes with her shirtsleeve. He either doesn’t notice or is kind enough not to mention it.

“I don’t think I’ve really gotten anywhere either, Britta. Maybe I made it out of high school, but I went into plenty of debt going to school here. My dad really tries, I know he does, but he just doesn’t _get_ me, and I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that he never will. I’ve never really had any friends either, so I'm not sure about that.”

“ _Abed_.” Britta whispers, her heart breaking at the sadness in his voice. “You don’t deserve that.”

“It’s alright.” Abed replies. "Part of me knows I do, I think."

“No, you _don’t_.” Britta insists. “Nobody does. But especially not you.”

“You hardly even know me.”

“Oh come on, Abed. You’re the biggest sweetheart I’ve ever met.”

“Me?” Abed asks incredulously.

“Yes, _you_.” Britta laughs, leaning over and placing a kiss on his cheek, which is chased by a smile when he turns to look at her.

Abed puts the blunt out and drops the roach in the ashtray next to him. “Wanna go inside?”

…

He takes Britta into his room, which is small, and a bit messy, with a pile of clothes on the floor and stacks of DVDs, notebooks, and little toys littering every surface, but she’ll take disorganized messy over _gross_ messy any day. She thought maybe he’d been kidding about being bisexual, or she’d misread what he was saying somehow, but there’s a little flag sitting in one of his pencil cups that confirms it. The walls are plastered with posters, mostly from movies Britta’s never seen.

“Sorry it’s such a mess in here.” Abed says. “I’d say it isn’t always like this, but that’d be a lie.”

With that he turns his back to her and pulls his shirt off, opening his dresser drawers to grab a new one. Britta watches for a second, at the way his muscles stretch as he bends over and how he shakes a hand through his hair. She turns away before he takes anything else off and gets dressed herself, pulling the first somewhat comfortable clothes from the top of her suitcase. 

“You dressed yet?” Abed asks.

Britta turns around to see Abed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, still facing the corner of the room. “Yeah I am, thanks.”

“Cool cool cool.” Abed replies, spinning to look at her.

He leaves to brush his teeth, and Britta spends most of that time looking at the mess of plants on his windowsill and messing with a clicky plastic toy off his nightstand until he comes back and she goes in. When she gets back to his room Abed’s under the covers with the toy in his hands.

“Can you get that light there?” Abed asks when he sees her walk in.

“Abed, you didn’t want to...” Britta trails off awkwardly.

“Have sex?” Abed asks, and Britta just nods. His eyes move down her body for a moment, then come up to settle on her lips. “I don’t _not_ want to, but I didn’t want you to think you to think you owed it to me for staying here or something disgusting like that. Plus you seemed kind of tired.”

“That’s— thank you, Abed.” Britta says, flicking the light switch off. “Tomorrow?”

“Whatever you want.” Abed replies easily. 

When she gets under the covers she presses her back to his chest and he carefully fits his body into hers. He isn’t stiff now, just warm and pliable against her, even with a bony hip poking into her back a little.

“Good?” Abed whispers. 

“Yeah.” Britta says back, taking one of his hands and holding it to her chest. It still smells like weed and cigarette smoke, but he’s comfortable and _safe_ in a way she doesn’t think anyone’s ever been. The city is still loud outside his window, people yelling at each other and cars honking or blasting their music, and the glow that filters through the blinds casts itself in broken rows over the bedspread. “Thanks for everything. Goodnight, Abed.”

“Night, Britta.”

…

Britta wakes up to the sun pouring into the room and wraps the fluffy green comforter closer around herself. Abed’s bed is still warm, even though he’s not in it anymore, and unreasonably comfortable. It takes some energy for her to lift her head to see him leaning over his computer with his headphones on.

“Morning.” Abed says, pulling his headphones off when he realizes she’s awake.

“What time is it?” Britta asks.

“Eleven. I got up like an hour ago.”

“What are you doing?”

“Editing videos.”

Britta leans over to see the screen. “Well it _looks_ like you’re playing Minecraft and smoking out of your window.”

“That might be a little more accurate.” Abed shrugs.

Britta feels around the pillows for her phone and instead pulls out a teddy bear.

"I didn't see this last night." Britta says, holding it up.

Abed turns from the computer screen to see what she's holding and frowns a little. "I mean, that's definitely _not_ because I was trying to hide it from you." 

"Why were you hiding him?" 

"I mean, it's pretty embarrassing." 

Britta sits up and holds it in her arm. It's pretty standard as far as stuffed animals go, but clearly worn with years of use. "It really isn't. He got a name?"

"Just Bear. I've always been bad at naming things." Abed says. “Wanna come film with me today?”

She gets up and looks over his shoulder at the game. “Where are you going?”

“I was just gonna take the J train back and forth all day. Which is probably boring to most people, but if you’re new here maybe it’ll feel like a novelty.” Abed says, unplugging the camera and putting it into his bag.

…

Abed’s right, and it definitely seems like the subway would make for a soul-stealing commute every morning, but it does sort of feel like a novelty. There are points where the track runs above the ground instead of under it, suspended among the buildings, and the views are different than they look on the postcards, _realer_. Abed tries to explain his documentary, which Britta doesn’t quite understand, so they end up talking through all his previous projects in snippets exchanged between takes. After they’ve gone through it all, between the sci-fi and the true crime, he tries to explain the documentary again, and she still doesn’t get it.

She feels bad thinking about it, but part of her wants to tell Abed that she isn’t _special_ , that she likes him so much that it pulls at something in her chest but she isn’t who he thinks she is. That she can’t help him with any of his problems because she has so goddamn many of her own. That she doesn’t understand him any better than anyone else. Britta watches an elderly couple as she thinks about it, opening a newspaper between them and keeping pace as they read, only interacting to turn the page.

When she turns he’s looking in her direction instead of them, which feels wrong for some reason. He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes after that, fiddling with the camcorder before holding it out to Britta, the little screen pops out, and presses play.

“ _Cats_.” Abed explains as it starts.

Britta leans in to watch, and it is in fact just clips of cats all over the city, in store windows and outside restaurants, wearing fancy outfits and being pushed around in a stroller, navigating their way through alleyways, at least one in the subway. Most of them were from afar, but plenty of them walked right up to the camera.

“This is pretty adorable.” Britta says, unable to stop herself from smiling at each new video.

“Thanks, I thought maybe you’d like it.” Abed replies.

The next few hours don’t feel like that long, all things considering. She looks through a few more videos on Abed’s camcorder, makes some halfhearted sketches with a pack of sticky notes she took from his desk, and mostly just watches people come and go with him.

“Hey Britta?” Abed says a few stops from theirs at the end of the day. Or at least she thinks they are, since the glitching display lit over the seats isn’t clarifying much for her.

“Yeah?” Britta asks, sliding an inch closer on the bench, Abed warm against her side as the air starts to feel cold from the outside.

“Thanks for coming with me today.” He finally replies. “And—and I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

Abed zips his camera into his bag and starts wringing his hands together. “I like you a lot, but now we’ve spent some time together, probably enough for you to be weirded out by me, so I get it if you don’t want to be my friend. Or anything more than that. I can help you find somewhere to stay though.”

“Abed, I do still want that.” Britta says, not sure how to tell him that today has only made her want that _more_. “And I don’t think you’re weird.”

“I mean I _am_ weird. We’ve been riding this train back and forth for eight hours. And I do this like three times a week.”

“Okay, maybe you’re a little weird.” She laughs. “But I think I like that about you, Abed. You’re refreshing.”

“Thanks. But when you stop liking it, I understand. Just tell me, alright?”

“That isn’t gonna happen.” Britta says quietly. 

Abed doesn’t say anything back, so she just grabs one of his hands in hers and squeezes it, leaning her head against his shoulder and dozing off until he’s tapping her awake at their stop. 

On the walk back they pass a bodega with tables of potted plants spilling out into the sidewalk. 

“Wanna get snacks?” Abed suggests, flicking the needles of a cactus with the tip of his finger. 

“Yeah, sure.” Britta replies, peering into the narrow aisles of the store. 

Abed waves to the guy behind the counter and they exchange a few words in a language she doesn’t know.

“Oh, that’s Pavel, this is his family’s place. They’re Polish.” Abed explains when he sees her watching, then holds up a colorful little pot with light blue flowers. 

“Those are cute.”

Abed looks from the plant back to her. “They kind of remind me of you.” 

Britta looks down at the table in front of them and spots a small tree with a braided trunk and glossy emerald leaves. “Well if that one’s me, this one’s you.” She smiles.

Abed takes it from her. “Money tree. They’re supposed to be good luck.”

He walks into the rest of the store with purpose, both the plants tucked under his arm as he grabs a bottle of diet squirt from the case and a bag of plain lays chips off a rack. She stands at one of the first cases feeling oddly overwhelmed by the colors and the few hundred choices placed in front of her. Finally she settles on an iced tea and a sleeve of oreos, then ends up with two packs of reese’s from the case. When Abed steps up to the register, Pavel grabs a Hershey bar and a pack of sour straws from behind the counter before he even needs to ask.

“Can you tell I get the same thing every time I come here?” Abed says to Britta as they’re paying.

“Hey, nothing wrong with knowing what you like.” Britta shrugs.

They walk out towards Abed’s apartment with the plants still under his arm, and he rips open the candy and passes one to Britta, biting the end of his off and chewing it before he talks again.

“So is there anywhere at all you wanna see here?”

“Maybe some art museum or something like that,” Britta says. “I know there are a bunch but I’m not really sure what the difference is between all of them.”

“The MoMA’s cool.” Abed replies. “I like the Met too, but you seem more like a modern art type.”

“I guess I am.” Britta says. “Can we get high first?”

“Is there any other way to go to a museum?” Abed laughs. “We can do that tomorrow if you want.”

“That’d be nice. And Abed?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you just… not care if I stay with you?”

“Not at all.” Abed answers immediately. “I wouldn’t ask you to pay rent or anything, especially not when I’ve already got that settled till the lease ends. And not gonna lie, I was pretty lonely before you came along. The—” Abed pauses for a second, and they walk a few steps in silence. “The _bad_ kind of lonely.”

“ _Oh_.” Britta breathes, looking over to Abed’s face. It seems sort of disaffected, but his dark eyes are sad, focused on the ground in front of him.

“I wasn’t going to do anything, at least I don’t think I would’ve.” Abed says back quietly. “But it’s not a good place to be.”

“I know.” Britta says back as Abed opens the door to his building and leads them upstairs. She _does_ know, that’s why she came here, and there isn’t much she can think to say beyond that.

…

After his shower Abed walks out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, and Britta tries not to look too hard at first, but once she sees his shoulders and arms and _abs_ that she wasn’t exactly expecting him to have, water still shining against his skin, her eyes are definitely stuck.

“Britta?” Abed asks.

She focuses on his face, which really doesn’t do much for the level of attraction she’s feeling right now, considering the way his wet hair is curled around his face. “No offense but I—”

“You thought I was gonna look different shirtless?” Abed finishes for her.

“Uh yeah, pretty much. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, I sort of get that a lot. There are worse things for people to think when they see you naked.” He cracks a smile and turns towards his dresser.

“Do you maybe _not_ wanna get dressed?” Britta asks.

Abed looks back at her with a confused look again, then seems to process what she’s saying. “ _Oh_ , alright.”

He walks the few steps between them to stand in front of her, then gently lifts her chin up and brings his lips to hers. They kiss like that, Britta on her toes trying to reach him and Abed leaning down to meet her until the kiss is too heated and she places a hand on his shoulder to direct him to the bed.

Britta isn’t sure how to categorize the sex, the fact that Abed’s so contradictory in all the best ways. His eyes are dark and he makes it clear how much he wants it, wants _her_ , and it sets her insides on fire, but he’s also got all the gentleness he always has, asking her questions in hushed tones of _“What do you want?”_ and _“Do you like this?”_ against her ear. She can’t believe how _expressive_ he is, which she doesn’t think she was really expecting from him either, but he tends to be surprising. Every touch she places on his skin leaves him trembling in pleasure, and she finds herself feeling like she’s won something when he makes tiny gasping noises and says her name between soft moans. Abed’s hands explore her body with a sort of reverence even as she’s grinding on top of him, a hand in her hair pulling just enough to feel the tension without hurting. When she presses a thumb to his bottom lip, pink and swollen from kissing her, he eagerly sucks it into his mouth. After that it’s not long until he comes, with her following a minute later, collapsed on his chest with her muscles limp, both of them laughing a little between heavy breaths.

Abed pulls the condom off and makes an attempt to clean them both a little before slumping into the pillows next to Britta instead.

“Can I touch you?” Abed asks, his hand coming up along Britta’s bare chest.

“Yeah, you’re good.” Britta replies, settling herself in his arms as one of his hands cups her breast and a thumb runs along the nipple, and she lets her own hand graze over his hip.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” Abed says quietly, his other hand brushing through her hair.

“Are you just saying that cause I’m letting you grab my tits?” Britta laughs.

“It’s true either way.” Abed answers. "And you have really nice hair."

“Hey listen,” Britta starts, and Abed’s attention turns to her face without his hands moving away. “that was— it was really nice. I don’t always enjoy sex that much, or I feel sort of uncomfortable during it, but I didn’t with you. It seemed like you actually cared about me liking it.”

“Of course I _care_ , Britta.” Abed says back. “I want to make you feel good, and that’s one of the only ways I really know how to make people feel good. Believe me, I definitely enjoyed it too, but you’re first in my mind, you know?”

Britta tries to remember the last time someone else put her first and finds herself drawing a blank. No one ever put Britta Perry first, that just wasn’t the natural order of things. She was always the one people forgot to invite, who got asked to take extra shifts and said she didn’t mind staying late when everyone else got sent home, who bought other people birthday gifts but didn’t even get a text when hers came around. 

Instead she gets up to clean herself off, and he does the same. When she comes back in the room Abed’s got shorts on but he’s still shirtless, leaning again the wall with his soda and the tv already on the loading screen for a game. She briefly wonders if he’s going to keep hanging out in here half-naked, and if at some point it’s going to be less distracting than it currently is.

“Wanna play?” Abed asks, holding up a controller for her.

“Yeah, sure.” Britta replies, grabbing her own snacks and sitting down next to him. “Fair warning, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“That’s fine, you’ll figure it out.” Abed tells her.

They spend the next couple hours playing super mario until Britta gets distracted and slides her hand along Abed’s thigh, and he answers it by leaning over to kiss her, and they spend a while going back and forth laughing before remembering the game and playing again. She isn’t particularly good, and he’s the one getting them through most of the levels anyway, but he still waits patiently next to her while she figures it out.

When they go to sleep Britta finds herself just as close to him as she was the night before, her head on his chest as he laid on his back and ran a hand through her hair.

...

The next few weeks bring an odd sense of regularity to their days. They wake up late, go somewhere to catch footage or see something Abed thinks she’d like, and on the rainy day’s they’d just smoke and hang out in Abed’s bed for hours. Britta works nights at the bar, and Abed comes by to see her more often than not, peeking out from behind his camera to wave to her between customers. At the end of the night he’s always waiting outside to walk with her, grabbing her hand under the dark, starless sky, insisting every time that he knows she could fend for herself, but he likes the walk anyway.

Nothing’s boring with Abed, not even the stuff that should be, sitting on a park bench with a croissant feels like an adventure, which means that going to the MoMA so high that they can’t find their way out is _definitely_ an adventure. It’s all a flurry of vegetarian restaurants and bookstores and subway cars, each day and night moving faster than Britta knows how to follow. They shop for groceries and cook dinner together, Britta on a constant quest to make something good enough for Abed to give up his buttered noodles. They go do laundry together and sit on opposite plastic chairs in the laundromat reading, and Britta gets another twenty pages in while Abed folds his laundry in accordance with his complicated system for it. Then they go home and water the plants and sit on the fire escape again. But even the plain, domestic moments that should feel slow go too quick for her to hold on to.

…

“So, how long do you have left here?” Britta asks out of the blue.

They’re at a thrift store, and he’s sorting through hangers of denim jackets that look nearly indistinguishable from the denim jacket he’s already wearing.

“Only a month.” Abed answers, fiddling with a jacket button before hanging it back up on the rack. “Do you have plans for after I leave?”

“Not really.” Britta replies, holding up a soft sweater. “But I’m thinking maybe I should just go home before you do and try to get my GED.”

“That would look nice on you.” Abed says, nodding to the sweater. “And that doesn’t sound like too bad an idea.”

“New York would feel kind of weird without you if I stayed, I think.” Britta tells him.

“You’re definitely my favorite person I met here.” Abed says. “And I met a lot of people.”

“Before I came here, I sort of thought I’d meet a lot of different people and not really get to know any of them.” Britta says. “But I’ve really only spent a lot of time with you,”

“I hope that’s not a bad thing.” Abed says. “I’d help you meet people if I knew any way how to other than going to the bar.”

“No, it’s been really good, Abed. I think I met you when I was supposed to.”

“Me too.” Abed says back.

…

Britta’s last night is three weeks later, her ticket booked for early the next morning. She gets her last check from the bar and says her goodbyes as they close up that night, then takes the same walk home with Abed she always does. The whole time she follows the signs of the storefronts, hopes that if she looks hard enough now she’ll be able to hold onto this forever.

Abed trips over his own feet a little while they’re walking, as he’s prone to do. “Sorry.” He apologizes when he’s steady again. “Clumsy.”

“You’re just fine, Abed.” Britta tells him. “You really are. I hope you remember that when I’m not around to say it.” She adds, looking up to catch a glance of his expression.

“I hope you remember how special you are.” Abed says, looking up at the sky, and she can’t read anything from it. “You think you’re boring, or only good for other people to use, but that isn’t true.”

“Well I’ll try to if you do too.” Britta promises.

"Also, you should know this before you leave, but you say bagel wrong."

"I do _not_." Britta protests. "I say it the same as you, baggel. Also, if that's true, why are you just telling me now? We've gotten baggels like ten times."

"You always have, but I felt weird bringing it up until now."

"I don't believe you." Britta insists. 

...

They spend their last night together smoking and watching a terrible reality show and fucking and ordering pizza, which are all the things they did just about every other night. She blows smoke in his face and he throws gummy bears at her, and it's utterly stupid bit it's got all the uncertainty and longing of it being for the last time, even with both of them dancing around any real words until they’re about to fall asleep.

“I’m really gonna miss you, you know.” Britta says into what she’s come to think of as city darkness, a night sky with enough lights going outside to leave every room just dim instead of truly dark.

“I’ll miss you too.” Abed says, his fingertips brushing gently under her chin. “I am happy I don’t have too much time here after you leave. I think you’re right, it’s not gonna be the same without you.”

“Maybe one day we’ll see each other again.” Britta says, even though she recognizes it’s an impossibility. Knowing Abed’s been an experience, one she’s enjoyed more than most others in her life, but she can’t deny that it’s a finite one that she’s come to the end of.

“That’d be nice.” Abed says. “But if we don’t… I love you, alright? Just wanted you to know.”

“I love you too, Abed.” Britta says back, and she means it, because even if they never see each other after this she’ll think of him forever, always hoping that things go well for him even without any way of knowing if they do.

…

The second her flight takes off, Britta takes out her laptop and plugs in the flash drive Abed gave her. There’s two files; a compilation of his cat videos and the movie. She presses play on the second one and it starts with the jazz song she’s heard Abed play a hundred times before, and a shot of the sun rising over Brooklyn from the subway, then birds in the park. The city feels quiet in his videos, almost empty. Then it’s Britta, leaning against the bar on her first night there. She doesn’t think she looks different, except for the fact that her roots have definitely grown out, but the person she’s watching feels like a stranger. It cuts to mundane sequences of the city, one after another, and at first Britta’s confused, she doesn’t get what this is all supposed to mean, but before she knows it she’s caught up in how _beautiful_ it is. People buying bouquets of flowers from a street corner, sitting next to each other under trees and tossing food to the squirrels. Hands on the subway, resting in laps, reading, tapping out the beat of the music their headphones are playing, so many different sets of hands finding each other and clasping together that it’s almost dizzying. Every moment is distinct, so full of its own personality, but each connected to the others by a line only Abed could ever draw.

Then it’s back to Britta, looking out at the city from the window in his bedroom, from the subway, from out on the fire escape. She wonders how he managed to always capture her so candidly when she swore she was paying attention. And yet a few minutes tick by, full of memories, most of which she never knew he recorded. Abed seems to show her as perpetually fascinated, captivated by sculptures and graffiti and billboards, but the camera’s focus is always on her. This Britta feels more familiar, more real.

There are so many odd moments Abed’s captured that she can’t imagine the hours he spent people-watching to find them, and the fact alone makes them even more impressive. Shots of fifteen different people in the exact same outfit, of one old woman on a bench surrounded by pigeons day after day. The series of people dropping their food on the sidewalk and going the wrong way on escalators and failing to swipe their MetroCards makes her laugh hard enough to earn a confused look from the man next to her.

It goes back to Britta again, closer this time, throwing the controller at the ground when Abed beat her in a game, wrapped in his covers with her head buried in a book, blowing rings of smoke until she laughs and messes herself up. Abed’s hand running through her hair is the only shot he’s in for the entire thing.

When the sun sets over the buildings in the final clip and the screen fades to black, there isn’t much of a message, and it still makes about as much sense to her as it did when he was explaining it to her on the subway that time, but she still goes right back to the beginning and presses play again.

...

Nearly two years go by, and she doesn’t keep in touch with Abed, despite how often she finds herself thinking of him. Her mind would wander there during long days at work and zoning out studying for her GED, and compared to most other places her mind would go, New York was pretty welcoming, anyways. She can’t hear a terrible movie opinion without thinking of what he’d say in response, and pizza in Colorado really doesn’t compare. It’s mostly little things, because that was the sort of stuff Abed liked, birds and blue flowers and people holding hands. Most of all she thinks about him when she’s laying awake at night, wishing she could be important or interesting or _special_ , and she falls asleep to his movie. Britta reminds herself that Abed’s an observer, not a fabricator, that he only ever saw what was already there.

She misses him, but it’s a bittersweet feeling, nostalgia for a time and place and person that she’s moved on from. That’s why, when on her first day of Spanish class, after walking in late and hiding in the back corner, she isn’t sure how to react when the teacher reads out _Abed Nadir_ from the attendance sheet. He doesn’t say anything, just raises a familiar hand from the front of the room and looks back down at his notebook. When her name’s called to after his Abed’s head perks up, and she watches as he turns around to look at her with a shocked expression. She smiles, and after a frozen second he smiles back with all his teeth. The second she looks up at the end of class, he’s already standing in front of her desk.

“I guess neither of us ever said where we were from, huh?” Britta quips, ignoring the way her stomach is flipping at the sight of Abed hovering over her.

“No we didn’t.” Abed says. “But I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

His eyes are darting around the room at everyone else leaving, his hands shaking at his sides. “Can I talk to you tomorrow, maybe?” He asks quickly. “You— well you know how I am, and I’m happy to see you but it’s really throwing me for a loop, and I was already really freaking out about today. So is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course it is.” Britta says. “Don’t worry about it. You know how I am too, you don’t bother me.”

“ _I don’t bother you_.” Abed repeats under his breath, then looks back to Britta. “I really did miss you. I’ll see you soon.”

…

The next day Britta’s sitting out on the quad, half-listening to the Dean’s confusing speech when Abed sits down next to her and taps her on the shoulder, already talking before she has a chance to greet him.

“Britta, the time we spent together was probably some of the most fun I had in my life. And I don’t want to lose you again, because I can’t believe how lucky we are to have met twice. I really loved what we had when we had it, but— but I just don’t think we’re endgame. I’m really sorry if I’m hurting you by saying this—“

“Abed.” Britta interrupts. “You’re not hurting me at all. I think you’re right. It’s a new start for both of us. We had that together, and things are different, _we’re_ both different, but I like who I am with you around. So we can still have this together too, yeah?”

“Thank you.” Abed says. “I’d really like that.”

Britta at Abed’s eyes, soft and familiar and she really can’t believe she’s gone so long without him. She leans over and presses one last kiss to his cheek.

He smiles, putting his hand over hers before he speaks again. “Also, what do you think about joining a study group for Spanish?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi thanks for reading! I miss when new york felt like this, and I miss all those dumb little moments the most. Also I did rip the whole idea of Abed's movie off of How To With John Wilson which is a really interesting show you should watch :)


End file.
